you've got the morning (i've got midnight)
by Meocaroba
Summary: To save money, Hotaru Imai becomes a 3am regular at her local McDonald's. The food is about as bad as she expected. The company isn't. / McDonald's AU, written for @ga-party's writing challenge.


**you've got the morning (i've got midnight)**

* * *

 _AN: This story was written for the writing challenge over on ga-party's Tumblr. If you're interested, go check it out! The title is taken from "What Would I Do Without You" by Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors, one of my absolute favorite HxL songs, as a reference to their nocturnal meetings :3_

* * *

"This is garbage food," Hotaru Imai tells the guy in front of her.

It's 3 in the morning on a weekday and the McDonald's is almost deserted. Despite the late hour and the lack of customers, the soda machine is humming away in the background and fat is sizzling in the frier. The sounds mix with the splatter of rain on the asphalt outside and the radio the employee has on behind the counter. As far as places to spend the night go, this one doesn't make it above a one star rating.

"You ordered it," the guy says matter-of-factly. He's cleaning the counter, which he's been doing since she got there five minutes ago and which seems useless given that it's a fast food place. Hotaru squints at him.

"Isn't there, like. Quality control? Taste standards? Anything?"

"That Big Mac cost you 3$," the guy points out.

"Sure, but I could have eaten the trash from outside for less than that."

The guy sighs. He doesn't seem too thrilled with her presence, or her comments, or her behaviour in general which is unsurprising. More likely than not, he's been working this shift for hours now, slowly wasting away behind his counter. It's the only reason Hotaru bites back another snide comment.

As she finishes the burger in front of her, she studies her inadvertent companion. He's blond and about her age, with tired circles beneath his blue eyes. Just another student trying to make ends meet, she guesses.

Her meal's almost gone when he speaks up again and startles her out of her observations.

"I'm sorry if the burger's bad," he tells her, almost sheepishly. Hotaru can't be sure but she thinks she can see the hint of a blush coloring his ears. "I haven't worked here for long. If you're used to better food at this location you could issue a complaint, I suppose."

"I've never been here before," Hotaru tells him. "And I don't plan on ever coming here again."

"Oh. Well that's…," he trails of. "Why did you come here today, then?"

"I'm saving money on meals so I can buy materials to build a mech."

"Oooh." McDonald's employee sounds genuinely excited for her, which is a surprise. "Like the ones in Pacific Rim?"

"I'm not done designing it yet," Hotaru tells him dismissively, but the guy is undeterred. For some reason, her answering his question seems to have an invigorating effect on him. She curses herself for giving into the mental image of her best friend that made her try and be kind in the first place.

"That's fine. Hey, you can show me those designs next time you come here!"

"I told you," Hotaru says, as she drops the remains of her meal in the trash. "I'm never coming here again."

She turns to leave. Outside, the rain has lessened but the short walk back to her university will be cold and unpleasant. Still, she needs access to the research there to continue working, so she has little choice. As the door closes behind her, Hotaru can hear the voice of the McDonald's employee ring out.

"See you!"

What a dork, she thinks to herself.

* * *

History will show that Hotaru Imai, sister of Subaru Imai and best friend of Mikan Sakura, brilliant engineer and aspiring millionaire, is a liar. Or, at the very least not a clairvoyant. Be it fate or her continuing lack of money, she finds herself at the McDonald's again only a few days later.

This time however, she orders Chicken McNuggets. The guy is there again, because they are both stuck in the hellscape that belongs to people who have to be awake at 3 am.

"Did you bring the designs?," he asks her as way of greeting. Hotaru raises her brows.

"You mean did I bring designs for a mech I am building for a tech competition so I can show them to some random fast food employee I literally don't know anything about?

"Yeah," he says, completely missing her sarcasm. "That's what I mean."

"No," Hotaru says. "And even if I did, I doubt you would understand them."

He hands her the Chicken McNuggets with a scoff.

"You don't know that," he says. "Maybe I'm an engineering student. Or a genius."

Hotaru takes her food to a side booth not far from the counter, conscious of his eyes following her as she sits down. If he's mad that she doesn't dignify him with a reply, he doesn't say so.

The first bite into the chicken nuggets makes her remember a documentary about food production, where McDonald's meals were made of a pale, rose colored paste likely filled with flavor enhancers and nuclear waste or something. Her unhappiness must show on her face because her blond companion raises his hands defensively.

"Those come pre-made," he says. "So if you don't like them, I really can't help you. Besides, everyone loves Chicken McNuggets. I have never seen anyone not love them. Maybe you're just weird."

"Or, you know. Used to well prepared food made from great ingredients."

He rests his head on his hand and stares at her, seeming to fight some internal struggle before giving up and shaking his head.

"You know, I haven't actually tasted them myself, like ever."

"If you're trying to get me to share mine with you, it won't work," Hotaru informs him briskly.

Somehow, her reaction makes him laugh and for a second, the stormy night outside seems less cold. Aside from Mikan, it's rare that people meet her abrasiveness with joy. She doesn't quite know what to make of it.

"I'm a vegetarian," he tells her. "And I go to med school. So I'm not touching this stuff with a ten foot pole. Except uh, you know. To prepare it."

"So you're not an engineer then," she observes. "I was right."

"I could still be a genius, though," he points out.

Hotaru can't quite hide her snort at that.

"Are you always this mean?," he asks her.

"I'm being nice."

"You're not doing a great job at it."

"Well, you're not doing a great job at being a helpful employee, so I guess we're even."

Bickering with a stranger in the middle of the night shouldn't make her feel better, but somehow it does. Her day hasn't been great, what with her invention coming together slower than expected and her family's financial situation continuing to worsen. But when Hotaru walks out of the McDonald's after eating, he waves at her, casually almost, as though they're friends. And maybe it's her constant night shifts or the weird food, but for some peculiar reason, Hotaru has to actively resist the urge to wave back.

* * *

Going to McDonald's becomes a habit and always, the same guy awaits her inside, with a smile on his lips. Except one day. One day, she enters the McDonald's to find him staring at his phone, not bothering to raise his head to greet her. Outside, snow and city streets have come together to form a wet, grey-ish mush and Hotaru suppresses a content sigh as the heating of the restaurant warms up her icy toes. When she steps closer to the counter, he finally looks up and meets her eyes.

"Hey stranger," he says.

"A McCoffee and a salad," Hotaru says, the same time he asks her: "Do you think our menu is bad?"

She blinks. "Excuse me?"

"Do you think our menu is bad?," he repeats. He gestures to the different food items, all a staple of McDonald's, all varying degrees of "bad for you".

"Do you want a subjective opinion or an objective one?," she asks, dimly wondering why she's even still talking to him.

"Both."

"Yes. It's bad. That's both my subjective and the objective opinion, in case you couldn't guess."

His shoulders slump. With a sigh, he starts getting her coffee and rummages around in the back for her salad. As he works, the fluorescent lights above them flicker, casting strange shadows that bring out tired lines around his eyes. She hasn't seen him like this before. He's been annoyed, sure, and tired, but right then he looks... _unhappy_. It's unsettling, not because she particularly cares about his emotional state but because he isn't behaving like an employee attending to a customer. He has no intention of hiding how he feels from her, almost like he wants her to know, expects her to care.

She doesn't care. This is the guy who makes her food early in the morning and she does not care. She doesn't.

"What's up with you?"

"I'm sorry?," he says, turning towards her. His blond hair is sticking up from his head.

"What's up with you?," Hotaru says, annoyed both at having to repeat her words and the fact that she felt compelled to ask in the first place. So much for not caring.

"Apparently this place does worse than the other fast food joints nearby, which means it's either the people working here who suck or the food. I prefer to think it's the food, because, well, I personally believe I'm rocking this whole night shift thing."

"Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, the problem is both?," she asks him.

"Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, you're not being helpful?"

He hands her the salad and the coffee and as a sign of quiet protest, Hotaru makes her way to the table furthest from the counter. If this were a usual fast food restaurant instead of one occupied by the human equivalent of a cranky puppy, this would have gained her a few moments of peace.

Alas, Hotaru has learned over her now many weeks of visiting McDonald's that few things ever go the way she expects them to in this place. So, naturally, he follows her to her booth and unceremoniously slumps down on one of the chairs. Deciding that fighting would be a waste of energy, Hotaru takes a sip of her coffee and sends him her iciest glare.

"I think we need to diversify our menu," he says. "Do you think that's even possible? At the end of the day, it's all up to McDonald's but if we can be convincing and show them that local customers want something fresh and new, maybe we'll get more popular."

"Are you a med student or a chef?," she asks.

"I'm definitely not a chef but if this place closes I might not get to be a med student either so please, Wise One, help me."

"Clearly the solution is shrimps. Crabs. Seafood. This is Japan and you're not even bothering to reflect that? For shame."

He seems to ponder her words for a few seconds before nodding to himself.

"You know, you might be right. Thanks for the suggestion!"

"Now, for the important part." She gestures with her hand. "Time for payment."

"Payment for what?," he asks, clearly befuddled.

"The business consulting I just gave you."

"...Do you accept payment in coupons?"

She considers for a second before shrugging. It's better than nothing and she's here often enough that it might just come in handy.

He begins writing up the coupon before pausing and raising a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. "So, um. Who am I making this out to?"

"Hotaru Imai."

"Hotaru Imai," he repeats softly, neatly writing her name onto the coupon before handing it to her. "Mine's Luca, by the way. Luca Nogi."

"I don't care," Hotaru informs him.

And inwardly, Hotaru promises herself that she really doesn't care. She doesn't care that he gets her another coffee without making her pay. She doesn't care that he watches intently as she sketches a new invention idea into her notebook. She doesn't care that she spends two hours in the McDonald's that day, perfecting the designs for her mech surrounded by the stench of frying oil and burgers and the quiet sound of Luca Nogi browsing through a magazine. She doesn't care.

But she remembers his name.

* * *

Hotaru doesn't win the competition. And it's not because she isn't talented or her design isn't inspired, it's misfortune, pure and simple.

That day, she walks into the McDonald's with her plans in her hand and a frown on her face. As always, he's waiting for her. Luca doesn't ask her how it went - sometime in the previous weeks, she told him the exact date of the competition, a piece of information she'd revealed with an ease that still confuses her. But her face must be giving away her emotional state, so he simply hands over a coffee and chicken nuggets.

She grabs them and retreats to the corner booth, with him following. He stays silent as she starts chewing her food with grim intent and more than a little bit of fury. It takes five or more minutes before Hotaru starts to speak, but he waits. Right then, with frustration gripping at her throat and worry clawing at her heart, the feeling of raw gratefulness she feels at his patience is close to overwhelming.

"I didn't win," she says. "Because I didn't hand in my invention."

Luca leans forward cautiously, perching on his elbows.

"Why not?," he asks.

She bites into another chicken nugget and stares outside, unwilling to answer right away. There are piles upon piles of text messages on her phone, worried friends asking what happened, how they can help. But she left them unreplied and came here instead. For what? The food? Has she, this whole time, forsaken the other fast food places because McDonald's is just too damn good?

"This is garbage food," she declares out loud, echoing her statement from all those months ago. Luca nods serenely.

"You're right," he says. "It is." Pause. "So why didn't you hand in your invention?"

"Do you know what a scholarship based competition is?"

"If you win, the money goes towards your degree, right?"

"Basically," Hotaru says, taking a sip of her coffee. "And therein lies the problem."

A car passes by outside, nothing more than a blur of moving colors, washed out by the rain. It looks sleek, modern, expensive. Unaffordable. Money, Hotaru thinks to herself, money is a curious thing. She can imagine so many uses for it, so many inventions worth spending it on, so many things to buy for herself. A lack of fear, maybe. A certain future. Is that what money buys?

"My father's company went bankrupt," she tells Luca, almost absentmindedly, working to make the information seem trivial, not intimate. "It's not like it's ever done well, exactly. But it's done well enough. We had a semi-stable life. But nowadays, people don't buy the way they used to. Which I guess is fair, right? Why waste the money you do have on 'Imai's expert home telephone system'?"

She sighs.

"My father's company went bankrupt," Hotaru repeats. "And we needed money to save it, fast. People work there, _he_ works there. So I sold the mech designs to the first buyer who came up. I checked him out, he seems legit. But I couldn't heggle up the price. I'm getting twenty, maybe thirty for it."

Luca frowns. "Thirty dollars?" At that, Hotaru snorts.

"I'm not that cheap. Thirty thousand. But that's about as much as my dad needs. So...I suppose it's fine. It's all good."

He reaches out, almost as though to touch her hand but thinking better of it. Instead, he rests it on the table, his finger almost grazing hers, silently comforting.

"What about your degree?," he asks. "Can you still pay your student fees?"

Hotaru shrugs. "Maybe. I don't know. It's a private university, so I don't know if it's worth it. I might just have to...quit. No way I'll amass debt and be bankrupt myself in a couple years. I'll never be able to start my own company if that happens."

For a while, they're both silent. Then, he says: "You know, a couple of years ago I got rejected from veterinarian school."

"I don't see how this is relevant," Hotaru informs him. Luca rolls his eyes at her.

"You'll see. Now, most people don't know this but vet school is tougher to get into than regular old med school, because you need to be able to work across multiple species, instead of just one. So I applied and got rejected. Sure, I hadn't exactly done great in High School. Me and my best friend, we...had a bit of an issue with authority, I guess." He laughs at the memory. "Anyway, I got rejected. I was basically stranded for a year with nothing to do and all my plans just gone and it was scary, right? But that's when I realized it." Luca looks at her expectantly. This time, it's her turn to roll her eyes.

"Alright, I'll bite. Realized what?"

"That's if you have no plans, no roads to follow, you can literally be anything. I'd never even thought about med school because I was so, so sure I'd be a vet one day. And then I wasn't a vet and I...well, I learned that there's more sides to me than the things I dream about. I volunteered at an animal shelter close to a retirement home and one day I just...wandered over. They were understaffed and I helped them out - just this once, I told myself, just for now - but I stayed. And they let me do medicine, small stuff only. And now...I'm here."

"A night shift McDonald's cashier," Hotaru comments dryly. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

He ignores her. "What I'm saying is - I get that this is scary. Your plans are gone, that sucks, you have no money, that sucks. But you're brilliant, right? And now you can find ways to be brilliant that not even you could dream up. Maybe that's not the end of the road but the beginning of one."

Perhaps it's his earnestness or his passion for her plans, or lack thereof, but whatever it is, Hotaru finds herself smiling.

"Maybe you're right," she admits begrudgingly. Luca grins.

"Now, for the most important part." He stretches his hand out to her and for a second, just a split second, she wants to take it, before he says: "Payment."

"I...Excuse me?"

Luca winks at her.

"My business consulting doesn't come free either."

Hotaru has a half-second itch to throw a Chicken McNugget at his head, but resists it.

"Tell you what," she says instead. "I'll pay you once I'm a millionaire."

That day, she goes back to her home and tears the mech designs from the walls. Then, amidst the chaos, she starts sketching something new.

* * *

Weeks later, Hotaru arrives two hours ahead of her usual time and if she were one for outward displays of emotion, there would surely be a spring in her step. Without preamble, she shoves the design plans under Luca's nose. He narrowly avoids spilling his Coke all over them.

"Oooh," he says. "It's….plans for….something."

"Remember all those months ago when you pretended to be a genius and/or an engineer who can totally read these plans?," Hotaru says. "Naturally, I assumed you were telling the truth so I brought them. As you can surely tell, this is the "Cleanmaster 3000", a fully responsive robot meant to replace all cleaning obligations."

She points at its mouth. "This fills with water and can be used as an on the go washer, both for clothing and dishes." Then, its hands. "These have in-built vacuum cleaners, so it can literally sweep away the dust." Its eyes. "They'll be equipped with sensors trained to differentiate between normal household object and trash meant to be cleaned away."

Luca's eyes have been growing wider and wider throughout her presentation.

"It looks amazing," he says sincerely. "Though...also expensive."

"A-ha, and you would think that because you're an uneducated heathen -" He grimaces at that. "But the 'Cleanmaster' was designed to be made using parts from old cars and machinery. It took me a while to make something good using cheap materials but let's just say coming to McDonald's has really helped in that regard."

"Because...we also use cheap materials to make something good?"

"No," Hotaru corrects deadpan. "Because you use cheap materials to make something awful, so I could learn which pitfalls to avoid."

"Point taken."

"Anyway, if I can sell this for enough money, make waves in the tech world, I'll either be hired and given a top position or earn enough to work self-employed. Either way, I think cleaning is a universal issue so my cards are good, don't you think?"

He's looking at her, not at the plans, and the expression on his face is tender.

"I will freely admit that I'm not an expert engineer after all," Luca says. "But nevertheless, I think your cards are excellent. I'd buy a 'Cleanmaster 3000'. Hell, I'd buy two just to get out of having to clean the toilets in the back."

"They'll be out of stock pretty quick," Hotaru informs him smugly. "So you better place your order fast."

"Oh, I don't know," Luca counters. "See, I know the inventor. I feel like she might be able to make something happen here. I did give her business advice once, so she sort of owes me. That reminds me!"

He gets up from their table and disappears in the back for a few minutes. Hotaru folds up her plans and neatly stores them away in her bag. She has duplicates, of course, but that doesn't mean she wants anyone to steal them. Luca could, she supposes. He's seen them and McDonald's has cameras. But somehow, in her heart of hearts, Hotaru knows he has no interest in subterfuge. He's excited for her success as though it's his own.

"Close your eyes!"

Hotaru doesn't heed his command and he pouts at her when he comes out of the kitchen.

"You're going to ruin the surprise," Luca warns.

With a sigh and only because she's in a good mood, Hotaru does as he asked. It doesn't take long before she can feel cool fingers touch her wrist. His skin is soft and he's close, she can tell, probably standing behind her, his blond hair tickling her cheek. Still, she keeps her eyes closed. There's a rustle as he opens something. A box?

"Open your mouth."

This time, she does open her eyes and turns halfway to stare at him.

"So you can poison me? I don't think so, Nogi."

"If I wanted to poison you, I would have done it one of the couple dozen times you were here. Also, you eat McDonald's like four times a week at this point. You're basically dead anyway. Besides, don't you trust me?"

"Your marketing abilities are truly exemplary," Hotaru says. But she does close her eyes again and opens her mouth, because he's right and because as incongruent as it may be, she does trust him.

The first taste of….whatever he places at her lips is rich and reminds her of her mother's home cooked meals. It instills a sense of belonging in her and Hotaru swiftly reaches up to pluck the food from Luca's fingers, biting into it once more. It's good. Not the artificial taste McDonald's usual provides but actual sea food, crabs if she's correct, and well prepared ones, too.

"It's a crab burger," Luca informs her excitedly. "See, I lobbied McDonald's and they decided to change their menu. It's just a special item for now but it's produced by local companies, I guess because they want to seem more eco-friendly and stuff. But it's good, right? I mean, I've never tasted it but the dayshift says so."

"It's good," she admits. "Definitely not garbage food."

She finishes the burger in record time and wipes her hands on a paper towel. Luca watches her.

"I guess you'll be able to afford something better than this once you sell your invention," he says. His excitement for her is still there, but it's muted somehow. Regretful. "No need for you to save money on food once you're a millionaire, huh?"

His words shouldn't make her feel regretful, too, but they do. For some reason, the thought of never sitting opposite him, of never again eating in the McDonald's in the middle of the night, makes her sad. Hotaru shoves those feelings down, quickly and efficiently. He's right, of course. There's no more reason for her to come here. Their frequent meetings will end, as they were always meant to.

She gets up and grabs her bag. Luca starts picking up the discarded boxes and cups, throwing them away before accompanying her to the door. He opens it for her and bows low.

"I wish you good fortune, Miss Imai," he tells her.

"And I you."

With that, Hotaru Imai walks out of the McDonald's, the door closing behind her with the slightest jingle. She doesn't look back - there's no need to, she can see the restaurant in her mind as clearly as a picture. But she feels the echo of his fingers on her wrist and the warmth of his breath on her skin and the way he took all her harsh comments in stride. How strange that she's come to care about the kind boy from McDonald's. How strange that something that cost her so little can feel so irreplaceable now, so achingly precious.

* * *

Luca Nogi is cleaning the counter when Hotaru Imai returns.

She looks different yet the same, her jet black hair curling around her ears and her purple eyes glinting. She's wearing what can only be called "business chic" and makes McDonald's look like the finest restaurant on the block.

It's been four months since she's shown him the 'Cleanmaster 3000' and since then much has changed. Well, much has changed for her, or at least he assumes so. She stopped coming to the McDonald's after that. The 'Cleanmaster 3000' was unveiled two months ago to thunderous applause and Hotaru Imai went from a nobody to gracing the title page of the New York Times. As for Luca, he spent his time studying and manning the McDonald's. Well, and missing her. Always missing her.

But now she's here, walking towards him with a purposeful stride.

"It occurred to me," Hotaru says. "That I promised to repay you once I was a millionaire."

"I remember you saying that, yes," he replies, feeling slightly dazed and wondering if perhaps the toxic fumes have finally gotten to his head and he's hallucinating.

"Right." She's at the counter now and he knows, just _knows_ that his cheeks are growing red at her close proximity.

"Now, I meant to ask….do you accept payment in coupons?"

It makes him laugh.

"I don't know, I really don't want to eat here unless I have to," Luca says.

"Well, lucky for you this is a coupon for the ' _Harbor's Treasure_ '."

Luca frowns. "That expensive place close to the sea? I mean….yeah, I could eat there."

He offers her his hand, palm up. Hotaru stares at it for half a second before smirking.

"Oh, I don't have an actual coupon. I figured I'd just pay for both of us."

"Hotaru Imai," Luca asks, stunned. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

She looks at him unflinchingly. "Yes."

A date. Hotaru Imai, the brilliant, raven haired girl that came into his McDonald's and made his night shift less lonely has returned to ask _him_ , the guy professionally flipping burgers, out on a date. He puts one hand on the counter to steady himself.

"I don't know," Luca says eventually. "I mean, it sounds like you're trying to weasle your way out of paying me."

"Oh, I guess if you feel that way I'll just go on my own and eat twice as much," Hotaru says casually, getting up from her counter stool as though to leave. He hastily grabs the corner of her coat.

"On second thought," he says. "I'd be thrilled to accompany you. How about we make it an early morning breakfast? My shift ends in three hours."

She sits back down. "That can be arranged."

And so Luca makes her coffee and listens as she talks, about her new job, about her friends, about her family. He tells her about himself, too, how he passed his exams and is saving money for her 'Cleanmaster 3000', how he told his own friends about meeting her, how they didn't want to believe him. It feels as though only a few seconds have passed when the first rays of sunshine creep into the restaurant, effectively ending his shift.

The girl taking over strolls in ten minutes later, gaping at Hotaru as she does.

"Is that…."

"Yes, here's the key, see you tomorrow," Luca rattles off. He grabs his coat and offers Hotaru his hand, for the second time that night. She takes it.

Then, with the other employee watching, he gingerly leans down and kisses her. She tastes like cheap coffee and sugar and meets his lips with the same purposefulness she does everything else. It makes his heart sing. He worries whether she feels the same way but when he opens his eyes, she can see her smiling up at him and his fear melts away.

"Not too bad for 3$," Hotaru says softly and Luca laughs.

Together they step out of McDonald's, into the dawn.


End file.
